Grey said victory was sure,
Soon the firebrand he'd secure,
Until he met at Glenmalure
With Fiach MacHugh O'Byrne.

Chorus:

Curse and swear, Lord Kildare.
Fiach will do, what Fiach will dare.
Now Fitzwilliam, have a care,
Fallen is your star low.
Up with halberd, out with sword,
On we'll go for, by the Lord,
Fiach MacHugh has given the word;
Follow me up to Carlow.

II

See the swords at Glen Imaal
They flash all over the English Pale
See all the children of the Gael
Beneath O'Byrne's banners.

Rooster of a fighting stock
Would you let a Saxon cock
Crow out upon an Irish rock?
Fly up and teach him manners.

Chorus

From Tassagart to Clonmore
There flows a stream of Saxon gore.
Well great is Rory Og O More
At sending the loons to Hades.

White is sick, Grey is fled;
Now for black Fitzwilliam's head.
We'll send it over dripping red
To Quenn Liza and her ladies.